


Flesh and Bone

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Whump, David Rossi shoots Aaron Hotchner, Gun Violence, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, M/M, Pre-Slash, Swearing, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: “Where's Dave?” he asked, and she crumbled, her lower lip quivered.  How did he do it?  He could have said anything, literally anything else, and she was prepared to hold it together – but not that.   He didn't seem to notice her reaction, or maybe he didn't care.“He's...” she started, swiping at her tears.  “I don't know, sir.  No one has seen him.”  He closed his eyes again and nodded, and he had to admit, he wasn't shocked.  If he'd shot his best friend, he would probably find it hard to be around anyone too.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	Flesh and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> A short Hotch/Rossi story that literally no one asked for. I don’t know why, but every time I watch “The Replicator” (S8e24) I think...what if Rossi had shot Hotch instead of letting himself be disarmed? (No one else? Yeah, I figured...) And bam, 3k words later and I’ve scribbled out some sort of harebrained story that barely makes sense. But in a twist (for me) we have angry Hotch and soft Dave this go around.

What was it about getting shot that made Aaron re-think every decision he'd ever made in his life? Lying on Dave's office floor, blood pooling in the grooves of the carpet beneath him, he wondered what would have happened if he had gone with his buddy Jon up to Alaska the summer after senior year to take his chances on the commercial fishing boats. It had sounded like a nightmare, but the allure of the cash had been tempting in spite of how much he hated the cold, and the idea of being so very far away from home was even better. He'd nearly committed himself to the harebrained scheme when the college acceptance letters started coming in and he bid Jon and his Alaskan dreams farewell. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be bleeding with a bullet in his side right now if he'd just gone fishing, he'd never heard Jon talk about getting shot anyway. Of course, Jon hadn't become a rich fisherman either, but he'd been successful enough to eventually get his own boat and make a modest living. 

“Stay with me, Hotch,” he heard Derek say, but he wasn't going anywhere. His body felt heavy, he didn't even feel pain, just his bones weighing him down as if they'd been poured with cement. He could feel the blood sticky on the back of his neck and he realized he wasn't even sure where he'd been shot, not really. He remembered putting his hands on the gun, lowering it, trying to help Dave see reason and then the sound bashed through his skull and a bullet tore through him. He'd dropped fast, like his knees had left him entirely, and though Derek reached out for him, he'd missed by just enough that the floor caught him instead. He didn't mind the floor. He closed his eyes, felt familiar hands pressing hard at the hole in his side, there was Dave. He'd wondered where Dave had gone, if he'd realized what he'd done. Still unsure, but he knew those were Dave's hands trembling against his hip, the space right above the bone, pressing too hard with fingers that were usually so gentle. At least he knew where he'd been shot now. He couldn't figure out the blood on his neck, but if he could have seen it, the amount of blood he was losing, the way it seeped angrily through the carpet, he would have understood. Better that he didn't. 

When he woke in the hospital, the pain hit him. Time didn't make sense, but the pain did. He made a soft noise, a whimper in the back of his throat. “Hurts...” he said softly, almost a whisper, to anyone who might be listening. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, didn't want to, just wanted someone to make the pain stop. He felt someone lean over him, grab his hand a little timidly, say something about calling a nurse and he nodded, or at least he thought he did. He wasn't part of the room around him beyond that, he couldn't stay there. Couldn't open his eyes. When the sharp pain gave way to a melted ache, he let himself sleep again. 

Penelope Garcia stood, holding her friend's hand, and wondered if she should call him that – her friend. Wondered what was going to happen to their team now, this was new territory. None of them had ever hurt the others. Why would they? No, this was ugly and painful and new. The Replicator was dead, Agent Rossi had somehow seen to that once the drugs had worn off, and then he'd disappeared. Vanished into thin air, none of them could reach him. She held Aaron's hand, wondering how they navigated these waters, but she didn't need to wonder long. Aaron's eyes fluttered open, tried to focus on her. 

“Where's Dave?” he asked, and she crumbled, her lower lip quivered. How did he do it? He could have said anything, literally anything else, and she was prepared to hold it together – but not that. He didn't seem to notice her reaction, or maybe he didn't care. 

“He's...” she started, swiping at her tears. “I don't know, sir. No one has seen him.” He closed his eyes again and nodded, and he had to admit, he wasn't shocked. If he'd shot his best friend, he would probably find it hard to be around anyone too. 

There was always a certain amount of scowling that went into Aaron being in the hospital, but it was exaggerated this time, worse, because he didn't have Dave to come and temper it. Everyone tried, and they did make him feel better, even smile, but there was a something Dave brought to the table that no one else could – real companionship. The rest of them, love them as he did, were his subordinates and he'd only ever known them in that capacity. He'd met them as their leader, and there was an invisible line drawn in the sand because of that. With Dave, he'd been the subordinate, he'd been the new recruit, he'd cried over his nightmares on Dave's shoulders long before Dave ever cried on his. Without Dave, he felt an odd sense of detachment as he sat in the hospital – he felt the pain, it was intense and unbearable at times, but there were no emotions tied to it. Just pure, simple pain. Emily had called him, told him he needed to talk to someone and he'd been a little too sharp with her in response. Not one to take his abuse, she scolded him for being an insufferable asshole and told him that he'd have to stop whining like a baby and go find Dave if he wouldn't talk to anyone else. He'd deserved it, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. 

Finding Dave, as expected, had proven difficult for a number of reasons. The first, and foremost, was his injury. The bullet had gone clean through, but it was still a bullet hole, just above his hip, that needed time to heal. Being shot at close range was no trip to Disneyland, so he was learning. The surgeon had called him lucky, said it had just barely missed all of the important bits, but he thought his entire body was important so he failed to see the silver lining offered to him. They'd kept him in the hospital a week, and not a moment longer, but there were times once he'd gone that he found himself wishing he'd maybe stayed another day or two. Things were challenging on his own. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. Penelope drove him home, dropped him off, tried to come inside to fuss over him but he declined and left her standing on his doorstep. Emily would likely call him later and scold him again, demand he apologize, and he would, because he deserved it. She made him behave, even from over seas. The second reason it was difficult to find Dave was even worse – he'd been put on administrative leave, pending investigation into the shooting. Aaron had, in great detail, provided his account of the situation but it was in direct contradiction to what Dave himself had testified to and that distressed Aaron to no end. Had he missed something? Had Dave? He'd tried calling him, repeatedly, with no answer. Derek's testimony was in line with Aaron's, which had to count for something he figured. The final reason was simply that Dave did not want to be found, at least not by Aaron, and if anyone had the means to disappear without a trace it was Dave. 

“You got shot,” Emily spat into the phone, and he could feel the eye roll without ever having to see it. “You got shot by your best friend. It is terrible, I'm sure it's very painful, but it isn't Penelope's fault. She is so worried about you.” 

“Has he called you?” Deflect. She saw through it, wouldn't let it go.

“You're going to apologize to Pen, right? I won't say a single word about anything - “ she started and he interrupted with a groan. 

“Of course I am. It's already taken care of.” And it was, he hadn't waited for her to chastise him, he'd already ordered her a dozen pink frosted mini-donuts (he even paid extra for both sprinkles and glitter) and a bouquet of tulips as an apology. Emily smiled and he wasn't sure how, but he heard that too. 

“He told me what happened,” she offered, and when Aaron didn't interrupt, she continued. “He said he knew what he was doing. He said he knew when he pulled the trigger, and it wasn't like he wanted to hurt you but he knew it would and it didn't stop him. I don't think he's...I don't know...” she didn't know how to finish those thoughts, she was out of her element here. 

“They found the drugs in his system, Em, they know he couldn't have stopped himself.”

“I'm not so sure he couldn't, Aaron...” she said softly. She was trying to be gentle now. It was rare, and she hoped that he understood the kind of restraint it took. “I mean, I know he didn't want to...but...the way he made it sound, he could have...he let you move the gun off of Derek right? He started to let you disarm him...in his mind, he's done something unforgivable.” 

“I don't care about any of that. I need to see him, Emily. I'm the one with the hole in my side, I get to decide whether it's forgivable don't you think?” 

“I suppose. I just...don't think he sees it that way.” Their conversation was heading nowhere fast, and he was getting irritated so he, rather abruptly, ended the call rather than say something to her that he'd regret. He was tired, he was sore, and he was angry now. Not at Dave, he understood that, hell he probably would have moved out of the state by now with his head hung in shame if it had been him...but he was angry that he couldn't figure out how to fix it. He lay back in bed, it was late, too late for him to have been awake but with the time difference between he and Emily, he did what he had to do. They talked a few nights a week, more now that she was gone than when she'd been there every day in person. 

He didn't sleep that night, or the many nights after. The pain was intense at night and he couldn't get comfortable in bed so he would put on his shoes and take a walk around the neighborhood, sometimes until 3 or 4am, some nights until the sun crested the horizon. He'd walk because for some reason the pain of that was bearable, even if he had to stop and rest every block or so, lean his back against a wall or put his knee up on a bus stop bench to take the weight off of his sore leg, but he still walked miles some nights. Sitting hurt worst of all, so he just simply didn't do it. He was either lying on his side with a pillow between his legs or he was standing with his knee on a chair, but never sitting. Days passed this way, he was exhausted, and he was grouchy. When Derek called him to discuss the results of the investigation, he was eating a bowl of oatmeal, standing at his kitchen counter in what Jack and Jessica had begun to call his flamingo pose. At least someone was having a good time, he figured, though he did have to admit it was funny. 

“Hotch, can you talk?” Derek asked, and Aaron nodded as if Derek could somehow see that through the phone. He knew. They always knew each other's silent moments over the phone, you got that way when you spent so much time around a person. “Listen, they cleared Dave of any fault in the investigation. They decided that, even if he thinks he could have stopped himself, the fact of the matter is he was not in his right mind.”

“Yeah, I know he wasn't...” Aaron said, shoving a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth and holding the phone away from his head far enough that Derek didn't have to hear him chewing. “So what next?”

“Well, here's the thing. Garcia just called me from the office, she was going to meet with Blake and Reid for lunch and she saw Rossi leaving. They all did. He didn't say anything to them but he left his door open and you know her...she can't help it, Hotch.”

“What'd she do?”

“She went into his office. He left his badge and his gun on his desk, man. She said there was a letter too, addressed to you. He never said anything to me, so I don't know if he's resigning or what...”

“Did she read it?”

“No, I don't think so. She said she wanted to though.” 

“Tell her to go open it and call me,” and Aaron hung up, tossing his phone angrily on the counter. He didn't know who he was angry at – himself? Dave? Garcia? No, not Garcia. Glad that Jessica had already taken Jack to school, Aaron limped angrily around the kitchen, pacing around until his phone rang again. 

“Hotch,” he snapped. 

“Alright babygirl, read the letter to us,” Derek said, and Aaron sighed. He was hoping to just speak with Garcia but he figured Derek was protecting her from him and he couldn't fault the guy for that. She sounded meek, small, reading the letter. It was simple, short. Too short, or just right, he didn't know. Aaron felt himself stop breathing entirely until his vision went blurry and he sucked in a desperate breath. 

“That's all?” Aaron asked incredulously. He heard Penelope gasp, flip the page over and back. 

“Yes, sir. It just says I'm sorry. That's all.”

“I'm on my way, I need the letter and his things.”

“You're not cleared to drive, Hotch.” Derek was the voice of reason, but he was stern. Aaron wasn't having it. 

“I'm not driving.” Aaron snapped and abruptly hung up. He didn't plan to drive, he couldn't sit that long anyway. Walking would suit him just fine, he had nothing but time and it would clear his mind. 

It took him all day to walk to the office, collect Dave's items, and then walk across town to Dave's home. He'd stopped twice for coffee and countless times to rest his sore leg but he wound up in the neighborhood just before dinner time. All of the lights were on in Dave's home, he was there or he was just very good at pretending to be. Aaron was about to collapse, he was exhausted and his pain was through the roof, but he was driven enough to pay it very little attention. He knocked at the door and waited, and found himself caught off guard by a young lady answering the door. 

“May I help you?” she asked, and Aaron stared at her for a moment, furrowing his brow. She looked a little scared. 

“I'm Aaron,” he said, trying to keep his forked tongue in check. He'd been ready to lay into his friend, but this girl, she didn't deserve it. “I need to see Dave.”

“I'm sorry, he's not available right now. I'll tell him...”

“No, you won't. I'm sorry about this.” Aaron snapped, and pushed at the door, slipping past her without ever even touching her. She wasn't a body guard after all, she was just a nice young girl – Dave's assistant, he remembered the other man mentioning. She was a college student, the daughter of a friend who needed an internship for her business degree. He limped through the house, heading directly for the den where he knew Dave would be. He loomed dark in the doorway, and Dave looked up at him, somehow not surprised to see him there. Not happy either. Where usually he'd smile upon seeing his friend, now he just looked...sad, defeated, ashamed. Aaron stalked to his chair, dropped his credentials in his lap with the letter and set the gun gently down on the table beside him. Dave’s assistant had followed Aaron down the hallway, but she turned and left them alone once it looked like Aaron posed no threat. She didn’t want to be involved in whatever this was. 

“I accept your apology and I forgive you without hesitation, but I do not accept not your resignation.” He stared at Dave, who looked...shocked? Angry? He couldn't read it. Strange, he'd never seen a look cross Dave's feature that he didn't recognize. “Stop being so dramatic.” 

“I'm not the one who just stormed the house...” Dave muttered, gesturing for Aaron to sit, out of habit more than anything. Aaron refused, stayed standing, but he leaned against the back of the couch for support. 

“You shot me. I'm not afraid of you, I'm not worried that you'd do it again. Dave, I was there with Strauss when she died, I saw what that drug did to her. If you expect me to believe that it made her drink again, why can't I also believe it made you pull that trigger?” 

“I remember pulling the trigger. I remember thinking – yes, take this from me, and then I remember thinking not a chance and pulling it. Aaron, I can't figure out which one was me and which wasn't, and I can't...I can't expect you to feel safe around me anymore. How could you trust me with your life ever again?”

Aaron approached Dave, pressing his hand to the throbbing wound in his side as he walked, and with great pain he crouched down in front of Dave's chair to look him in the eye. It was a mistake, he'd never get back up gracefully. He felt his side scream, felt his hip lock into place. 

“That is up to me. Not you.”

Dave shook his head, but he made eye contact with Aaron for the first time. “How can you just...”

“I can. It doesn't matter how. Am I wrong? Am I actually wrong? Have you ever thought about shooting me before?”

“No, don't be ridiculous...”

“Then you stop being ridiculous. I love you. I need you. I forgive you.” 

“You love me?”

“Oh for crying out loud Dave, enough. Enough. I'm in a lot of pain, spare me the melodrama. Just say you love me too, kiss me already, and then find me a drink of something that'll make the hole you put in my side stop hurting so damn bad. You might need to help me up off of the floor, too.” 

It would be a funny story to tell someday, when people asked how they decided to go from friends to something more, but for now it would just belong to them. Aaron threw the letter into the fire as it crackled and sucked down two highballs of whiskey. He watched Dave tuck his credentials into his pocket, where they belonged and smiled. For the first time in weeks, the hole in his side didn't hurt, he'd finally figured out how to make it stop. Dave was pressing his hand there, arm around his waist as they sat on the couch in silence. He was pressing as hard as he had when he was trying to stop the bleeding, and it worked this time too.


End file.
